Let’s time travÂel back to Leningrad (aka St. PetersÂburg) in 1924. That’s when an unconÂvenÂtionÂal chess match was played by Peter Romanovsky and Ilya RabiÂnovich, two chess masÂters of the day.
ApparÂentÂly, they called in their moves over the teleÂphone. And then real-life chess pieces–in the form of human beings and horses–were moved across a huge chessÂboard covÂerÂing Palace Square. MemÂbers of the SoviÂet Union’s Red Army served as the black pieces; memÂbers of the SoviÂet navy were the white pieces. They’re all on disÂplay above, or shown in a largÂer forÂmat here.
AccordÂing to this online forum for chess enthuÂsiÂasts, the 5‑hour match “was an annuÂal event, designed to proÂmote chess in the USSR.” The first such match was held in SmolenÂsk in 1921. We’re not sure who won the St. PetersÂburg conÂtest.
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
“Ghost in the Shellis not in any sense an aniÂmatÂed film for chilÂdren,” wrote Roger Ebert twenÂty years ago. “Filled with sex, vioÂlence and nudiÂty (although all rather stylÂized), it’s anothÂer examÂple of aniÂme, aniÂmaÂtion from Japan aimed at adults.” Now, when no critÂic any longer needs to explain the term aniÂme to WestÂern readÂers, we look back on Ghost in the Shell (1995) as one of the true masÂterÂpieces among JapanÂese aniÂmatÂed feaÂture films, mature not just in its conÂtent but in its form. Evan Puschak, betÂter known as the NerdÂwriter, takes a look at how it expressÂes its philoÂsophÂiÂcal themes through its still-strikÂing cyberÂpunk setÂting in his video essay “IdenÂtiÂty in Space.”
Puschak first highÂlights the presÂence (in the midÂdle of this “sci-fi action thriller” about the hunt for a wantÂed hackÂer turned self-aware artiÂfiÂcial intelÂliÂgence) of an action-free interÂlude: a “three minute and twenÂty-ish secÂond-long scene” conÂsistÂing of nothÂing but “34 gorÂgeous, exquisÂiteÂly detailed atmosÂpherÂic shots of a future city in Japan that’s modÂeled after Hong Kong.”
Its plot-susÂpendÂing visuÂal exploÂration of the film’s Blade RunÂner-esque urban space of “a chaotÂic mulÂtiÂculÂturÂal future city domÂiÂnatÂed by the interÂsecÂtions of old and new strucÂtures, conÂnectÂed by roads, canals, and techÂnolÂoÂgy,” emphaÂsizes that “spaces, like idenÂtiÂties, are conÂstructÂed. Though space often feels neuÂtral or givÂen, like we could move anyÂwhere withÂin it, our moveÂments, our activÂiÂties, our life, is always limÂitÂed by the way space is proÂduced.”
Just as all of Ghost in the Shell’s charÂacÂters exist in space, the main ones also exist in cyberÂnetÂic bodÂies, regardÂing their idenÂtiÂties as stored in their effecÂtiveÂly transÂplantable brains all conÂnectÂed over a vast inforÂmaÂtion netÂwork. The half-hour-long analyÂsis from AniÂmeEvÂeryÂday just above gets into the philoÂsophÂiÂcal dilemÂma this presents to the film’s proÂtagÂoÂnist, the cyborg police offiÂcer Motoko KusanaÂgi, examÂinÂing in depth sevÂerÂal of the scenes that — through diaÂlogue, imagery, symÂbolÂism, or subÂtle comÂbiÂnaÂtions of the three that viewÂers might not catch the first time around — illuÂmiÂnate the stoÂry’s cenÂtral quesÂtions about the nature of man, the nature of machine, and the nature of what emerges when the two interÂsect.
Film HerÂald’s briefer explaÂnaÂtion of Ghost in the Shell (which conÂtains potenÂtialÂly NSFW images) points to three main themes: idenÂtiÂty, CarteÂsian dualÂism, and evoÂluÂtion, all conÂcepts that come into quesÂtion — or at least demand a thorÂough reviÂsion — when the boundÂary between the natÂurÂal and the synÂthetÂic blurs to the film’s imagÂined extent. “My intuÂition told me that this stoÂry about a futurÂisÂtic world carÂried an immeÂdiÂate mesÂsage for our present world,” said direcÂtor Mamoru Oshii, and now, more than two decades latÂer, HolÂlyÂwood has even got around to remakÂing it in a live-action verÂsion starÂring ScarÂlett JohansÂson in the KusanaÂgi role. That does proÂvides a chance to update some of the now-datÂed-lookÂing techÂnolÂoÂgy seen in the aniÂmatÂed origÂiÂnal, but there’s no improvÂing on its artistry.
There has always been good teleÂviÂsion. Even Kurt VonÂnegut, witÂtiÂest of curÂmudÂgeons, had to agree in 1991 when he was interÂviewed in The Cable Guide for his own conÂtriÂbuÂtion to the mediÂum, an adapÂtaÂtion of his book of stoÂries, WelÂcome to the MonÂkey House on ShowÂtime. VonÂnegut did not like teleÂviÂsion, and comÂpared it to thalidoÂmide. “We don’t know what the side effects are until it’s too late.” He could only go up from there, and did, praisÂing, Cheers, M*A*S*H, and Hill Street Blues, and then sayÂing, “I’d rather have writÂten Cheers than anyÂthing I’ve writÂten.”
I nevÂer know exactÂly when to take VonÂnegut seriÂousÂly. He also calls TV everybody’s “rotÂten teacher” and says “I’m sorÂry teleÂviÂsion exists,” but he had long been a TV writer in its “so-called goldÂen days,” as John Goudas put it in a Los AngeÂles Times interÂview with VonÂnegut in 1993, when his sevÂen-episode run of Kurt Vonnegut’s MonÂkey House, hostÂed by himÂself, would soon come to a close. VonÂnegut found himÂself very pleased by the results, remarkÂing of his stoÂries that “TV can do them very well,” and espeÂcialÂly praisÂing “More StateÂly ManÂsions,” above, starÂring an irreÂpressÂible MadeÂline Kahn, whom he called “a superb actress.”
AnothÂer very direct, witÂty specÂuÂlaÂtive writer in the same year’s issue of The Cable Guide, Ray BradÂbury, appeared with VonÂnegut as part of two “duelÂing, short feaÂtures,” notes Nick Greene at MenÂtal Floss,
“under the ausÂpices of proÂmotÂing the authors’ upcomÂing cable speÂcials,” MonÂkey House and TheRay BradÂbury TheÂater. BradÂbury was also an old media hand, havÂing writÂten for radio in the 50s, and seeÂing adapÂtaÂtions of his stoÂries made since that decade, includÂing one on Alfred Hitchcock’s Alfred HitchÂcock Presents. Like HitchÂcock, when it came time for his own show, The Ray BradÂbury TheÂater in 1985, BradÂbury introÂduced the episodes and became a pubÂlic face for thouÂsands of viewÂers.
He also wrote each episode, all 65 of them, from 1985–86 on HBO and 1988–92 on USA. In his Cable Guide interÂview, BradÂbury calls teleÂviÂsion, “mostÂly trash,” then adds, “I’m full of trash… I’ve watched thouÂsands of hours of TV. I’ve seen every movie ever made… everything’s the same.” What did he like to watch? Nova, unsurÂprisÂingÂly, and CNN, which he called “the most revÂoÂluÂtionÂary thing in years.” In his interÂview (which you can read in a high resÂoÂluÂtion scan at MenÂtal Floss), BradÂbury credÂits teleÂviÂsion for “a lot of what hapÂpened in Europe”—referring to the fall of ComÂmuÂnism, as well as TiananÂmen Square, and the Gulf War. “FinalÂly, the mesÂsage got through,” he says, “and peoÂple revoltÂed… CNN,” he conÂcludÂed, “is very powÂerÂful teleÂviÂsion.” If he could see us now. See Bradbury’s very first episode of The Ray BradÂbury TheÂater, “MarÂiÂonettes” from 1985, just above. And purÂchase the comÂplete TV series online.
Tons of hour-long lecÂtures can be found on the channel’s Images, Ideas, InspiÂraÂtion playlist, most of them phoÂtogÂraÂphy relatÂed and all of them fasÂciÂnatÂing.
You’ll find someÂthing for everyÂone on this channel—from a lecÂture by gallery rep MarÂgit Erb talkÂing about her close perÂsonÂal and proÂfesÂsionÂal relaÂtionÂship with the great Saul LeitÂer, to a talk by Dancers Among Us phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer JorÂdan MatÂter, to Jack Hollingsworth’s fasÂciÂnatÂing talk titled “Small CamÂera Big Results.”
There are a total of 99 videos in that playlist alone—approximately 99 hours of eduÂcaÂtion, inspiÂraÂtion, and ideas.
Above you can watch Jack Hollingsworth’s lecÂture, “Small CamÂera Big Results.” He has “travÂeled to over 20 counÂtries and shot over 400,000 images with his iPhone,” and here he disÂcussÂes his iPhone phoÂtogÂraÂphy techÂnique, and all the apps he uses.
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
Stephen HawkÂing’s comÂputÂer-synÂtheÂsized voice is disÂtincÂtive. You know it when you hear it. But, after so many years, it’s time for a change. That’s the premise of this short comÂic bit, creÂatÂed for ComÂic Relief’s Red Nose Day. Above, watch A‑list celebrities–everyone from Lin-Manuel MiranÂda and Liam NeeÂson, to Anna Kendrick and Bill Gates–audition to become the new voice of Prof. HawkÂing. You can see how it plays out.
Red Nose Day (just held on March 24th this year) is a fundraisÂer to help strugÂgling peoÂple in counÂtries around the world. You can donate to the cause here.
If you would like to supÂport the misÂsion of Open CulÂture, conÂsidÂer makÂing a donaÂtion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your conÂtriÂbuÂtions will help us conÂtinÂue proÂvidÂing the best free culÂturÂal and eduÂcaÂtionÂal mateÂriÂals to learnÂers everyÂwhere. You can conÂtribute through PayÂPal, PatreÂon, and VenÂmo (@openculture). Thanks!
One-to-one relaÂtionÂships do not exist between the medieval EuroÂpean Guild sysÂtem and conÂtemÂpoÂrary labor unions or proÂtecÂtionÂist rackÂets…. NevÂerÂtheÂless, guilds were very much like both those things in some ways. They were also vocaÂtionÂal schools, where young aspirÂing artiÂsans could, with the right skills and conÂnecÂtions, apprenÂtice themÂselves to masÂter craftsÂmen, hope to receive decent trainÂing, and look forÂward to becomÂing guild masÂters themÂselves should they perÂsist.
Few orgaÂniÂzaÂtions like that exist today. But there is perÂhaps one indusÂtry in which—with the right conÂnecÂtions, skill, and persistence—a lucky and talÂentÂed few rise through the ranks to masÂtery: the film indusÂtry, where a video store clerk, Quentin TaranÂtiÂno, can achieve lastÂing fame and forÂtune, as can forÂmer part-time proÂjecÂtionÂist, Wes AnderÂson. Many direcÂtors who came of age in the sixÂties and sevÂenÂties went the traÂdiÂtionÂal route of film school, but one, WernÂer HerÂzog, took a bandit’s way into the craft, stealÂing a camÂera from the Munich Film School, feelÂing that he “had some sort of natÂurÂal right for a camÂera, a tool to work with.”
HerÂzog has creÂatÂed his own guild sysÂtem, of a sort, with the Rogue Film School, a rough, inforÂmal course, among othÂer things, in “guerÂrilÂla filmÂmakÂing.” StealÂing camÂeras is not ruled out. But you’ll have to learn the techÂniÂcal stuff on your own. What matÂters, most, HerÂzog says, is that filmÂmakÂers “read, read, read, read, read.” These are direcÂtors who have borÂrowed from othÂer direcÂtors and films, and also from books, music, paintÂing, etc., driÂven by an obsesÂsive and perÂsisÂtent desire to learn. And you’ll find them all in the superÂcut above, in which TaranÂtiÂno, AnderÂson, HerÂzog, and othÂer “masÂter filmÂmakÂers” like ScorsÂese, CopÂpoÂla, FelliÂni, Welles, and more offer short, yet proÂfound pieces of advice to aspiÂrants.
We begin with TaranÂtiÂno, who argues that pasÂsion is all you need to make a great film. “You don’t need to go to school” or know any of the techÂniÂcal stuff, but you do need to apprenÂtice yourÂself, with pure devoÂtion and tenacÂiÂty, to cinÂeÂma. You won’t hear this from many of the othÂers, but TerÂry Gilliam also recÂomÂmends a secÂondary trade, maybe as a plumber, anothÂer proÂfesÂsion that involves apprenÂtices and jourÂneyÂmen workÂing their way up. It’s cerÂtainÂly a trade that involves great skill, but to hear these direcÂtoÂrÂiÂal guild masÂters tell it, no othÂer proÂfesÂsion asks for as much driÂve and pasÂsion as the movies, and apparÂentÂly you don’t even need to know what you’re doing at first. See the comÂplete list of interÂvieÂwees below.
QUENTIN TARANTINO: 00:00
JERRY LEWIS: 00:40
TERRY GILLIAM: 01:15
JOHN CARPENTER: 01:40
PAUL THOMAS ANDERSON: 02:30
FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA: 03:54
FEDERICO FELLINI: 04:52
WERNER HERZOG: 05:56
WES ANDERSON: 07:22
SIDNEY LUMET: 07:50
JOHN LANDIS: 08:58
MARTIN SCORSESE: 10:15
GUILLERMO DEL TORO 11:38
ORSON WELLES 14:55
Few painters have creÂatÂed as rich a world as HieronyÂmus Bosch did in The GarÂden of EarthÂly Delights. The late 15th- or earÂly 16th-cenÂtuÂry tripÂtych, which depicts the creÂation of man, the licenÂtious frolÂickÂing of all creaÂtures on a parÂaÂdisiÂaÂcal Earth, and the subÂseÂquent fall into damnaÂtion, draws a scrutiÂny — and causÂes an amuseÂment — as intense as ever. As we’ve preÂviÂousÂly feaÂtured here on Open CulÂture, you can now take a virÂtuÂal tour of the paintÂing (there’s even an app for it), see it brought to life with modÂern aniÂmaÂtion, and hear the song tatÂtooed on the posÂteÂriÂor of one of the work’s many charÂacÂters.
Bosch not only creÂatÂed a world with The GarÂden of EarthÂly Delights, he popÂuÂlatÂed it thorÂoughÂly. And despite the human-cenÂtric stoÂry the work appears to take as its basis, the cast with which it retells it extends far beyond mere humanÂiÂty: the panÂels feaÂture not just wildlife of all shapes and sizes but a variÂety of mythÂiÂcal grotesques, from imps to chimeras to hybrids of man and aniÂmal to much more besides. He drew from the same surÂreÂal imagÂiÂnaÂtive well to fill his othÂer paintÂings, and you can now pull out a few of these colÂorÂful, menÂacÂing, preÂposÂterÂous, and darkÂly humorÂous charÂacÂters yourÂself in colÂlectible figÂurine form.
Though “not a big knickÂknack perÂson,” DanÂgerÂous Minds’ Tara McGinÂley admits to digÂging this selecÂtion of “tiny objects” straight from the mind of Bosch, all “kinÂda cool-lookÂing in their own obviÂousÂly weird way” and none “too expenÂsive. The figÂurines start at around $45, dependÂing on qualÂiÂty, size and detail.” (You can find them on AmaÂzon.) She highÂlights such issues as “HelÂmetÂed Bird MonÂster,” which accordÂing to manÂuÂfacÂturÂers ParaÂsÂtone feaÂtures a sevÂered foot “swingÂing from the bird’s helÂmet referÂring to the horÂriÂble corÂpoÂral punÂishÂments which could be expectÂed in hell.”
“DevÂil on Night Chair,” one of the most recÂogÂnizÂable denizens of The GarÂden of EarthÂly Delights’ third panÂel, comes cast in his famous posiÂtion, “eatÂing a perÂson on a chair where he will excrete the human remains.” The conÂsidÂerÂably less satÂisÂfied “Fat BelÂly with DagÂger” comes from the third panÂel of a difÂferÂent tripÂtych, The TempÂtaÂtion of Saint AnthoÂny, the dagÂger in his belÂly showÂing “the conÂseÂquences of intemÂperÂance. His eyes look out at you in acknowlÂedgÂment.” Its makÂers promise that “you will look at it in wonÂder as to how Bosch’s mind conÂceived of such an unusuÂal litÂtle felÂlow.” Have a look at DanÂgerÂous Minds’ origÂiÂnal post and AmaÂzon’s Bosch figÂurine page for more inforÂmaÂtion on how to obtain them, whether for yourÂself or as gifts for friends and famÂiÂly. They cerÂtainÂly won’t look at them the same way they do HumÂmel figÂurines.
The earÂly years of the SoviÂet Union roiled with interÂnal tenÂsions, intrigues, and ideÂoÂlogÂiÂcal warÂfare, and the new empire’s art reflectÂed its uneasy hetÂeroÂdoxy. ForÂmalÂists, FuturÂists, SupreÂmaÂtists, ConÂstrucÂtivists, and othÂer schools minÂgled, pubÂlished jourÂnals, criÂtiqued and reviewed each other’s work, and like modÂernists elseÂwhere in the world, experÂiÂmentÂed with every posÂsiÂble mediÂum, includÂing those just comÂing into their own at the beginÂning of the 20th cenÂtuÂry, like film and phoÂtogÂraÂphy.
These two mediÂums, along with radio, also hapÂpened to serve as the priÂmaÂry means of proÂpaÂganÂdizÂing SoviÂet citÂiÂzens and carÂryÂing the mesÂsages of the ParÂty in ways everyÂone could underÂstand. And like much of the rest of the world, phoÂtogÂraÂphy engenÂdered its own conÂsumer culÂture.
Out of these comÂpetÂing impulsÂes came SoviÂet PhoÂto (SovetÂskoe foto), a monthÂly phoÂtogÂraÂphy magÂaÂzine feaÂturÂing, writes KseÂnia Nouril at the MuseÂum of ModÂern Art’s site, “ediÂtoÂriÂals, letÂters, artiÂcles, and phoÂtoÂgraphÂic essays alongÂside adverÂtiseÂments for phoÂtogÂraÂphy, phoÂtoÂgraphÂic processÂes, and phoÂtoÂgraphÂic chemÂiÂcals and equipÂment.”
SoviÂet PhoÂto was not foundÂed by artists, but by a phoÂtoÂjourÂnalÂist, Arkady Shaikhet, in 1926 (see the first issue’s covÂer at the top). Though its audiÂence priÂmarÂiÂly conÂsistÂed of a “SoviÂet amaÂteur phoÂtogÂraÂphers and phoÂto clubs,” its earÂly years freely mixed docÂuÂmenÂtary, didacÂtiÂcism, and experÂiÂmenÂtal art. It pubÂlished the “works of interÂnaÂtionÂal and proÂfesÂsionÂal phoÂtogÂraÂphers” and that of avant-gardists like ConÂstrucÂtivist painter and graphÂic designÂer AlekÂsander RodÂchenko.
The aesÂthetÂic purges under Stalin—in which artists and writÂers one after anothÂer fell vicÂtim to charges of elitÂism and obscurantism—also played out in the pages of SoviÂet PhoÂto. “Even before SocialÂist RealÂism was decreed to be the offiÂcial style of the SoviÂet Union in 1934,” Nouril writes, “the works of avant-garde phoÂtogÂraÂphers,” includÂing RodÂchenko, “were denounced as forÂmalÂist (implyÂing that they reflectÂed a forÂeign and elitÂist style).” SoviÂet PhoÂto boyÂcotted Rodchenko’s work in 1928 and “throughÂout the 1930s this state-sancÂtioned jourÂnal became increasÂingÂly conÂserÂvÂaÂtive,” emphaÂsizÂing “conÂtent over form.”
This does not mean that that the conÂtents of the magÂaÂzine were inelÂeÂgant or pedesÂtriÂan. Though it once briefly bore the name ProÂleÂtarskoe foto (ProÂleÂtariÂat PhoÂtogÂraÂphy), and tendÂed toward monÂuÂmenÂtal and indusÂtriÂal subÂjects, war phoÂtogÂraÂphy, and ideÂalÂizaÂtions of SoviÂet life durÂing the StalÂinÂist years. After the 60s thaw, experÂiÂmenÂtal phoÂtomonÂtages returned, and more abstract comÂpoÂsiÂtions became comÂmonÂplace. SoviÂet PhoÂto also kept pace with many glossy magÂaÂzines in the West, with stunÂning full-colÂor phoÂtoÂjourÂnalÂism and, after glasÂnost and the fall of the Berlin wall, high fashÂion and adverÂtisÂing phoÂtogÂraÂphy.
Fans of phoÂtogÂraÂphy, SoviÂet hisÂtoÂry, or some meaÂsure of both, can folÂlow SoviÂet PhoÂto’s evoÂluÂtion in a huge archive feaÂturÂing 437 digÂiÂtized issues, pubÂlished between 1926 and 1991. Expect to find a gap between 1942 and 1956, when pubÂliÂcaÂtion ceased “due to World War II and the war’s afterÂefÂfects.” Aside from these years and a few othÂer missÂing months, the archive conÂtains nearÂly every issue of SoviÂet PhoÂto, free to browse or downÂload in varÂiÂous forÂmats. “Dig deep enough,” writes phoÂto blog PetaPixÂel, “and you’ll find some realÂly interÂestÂing (and surÂprisÂingÂly familÂiar) things in there.” Enter the archive here.
We're hoping to rely on loyal readers, rather than erratic ads. Please click the Donate button and support Open Culture. You can use Paypal, Venmo, Patreon, even Crypto! We thank you!
Open Culture scours the web for the best educational media. We find the free courses and audio books you need, the language lessons & educational videos you want, and plenty of enlightenment in between.